


A Little Thing

by Brennah_K



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Twilight - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-07-26
Updated: 2016-02-12
Packaged: 2017-10-21 18:34:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/228331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brennah_K/pseuds/Brennah_K
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Headmaster, though potentially a brilliant strategist, was prone to giving his trust too people with dubious records. When he mistakenly trusts Alastor Moody with the secrets of the prophecy and the horcrux, Barty Crouch relays them to the Dark Lord who changes his plans for the confrontation in the cemetary- and Harry is forced to pay a high cost for Dumbledore's mistakes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Simply Put

Severus Snape found himself hard pressed not to chuckle when Potter pushed the emptied goblet back his way with a whine, "Couldn't I just have a potion or something?" knowing full well that – while the hart's blood that Potter was drinking every hour on the hour was likely to be a less satisfying than the beverage newly turned vampires were instinctively driven towards - it was by no means as vile as his potions could taste.

"Certainly, which potion would you like to taste both coming and going, as I suspect your new system might take offense to any but your natural sustenance."

The non-verbal "ewwww" that flashed across Potter's face was enough to break the Potion Master's composure for a second, and the chuckle escaped.

"I knew it." Potter gasped leaning back into the pillows with a chuckle of his own.

"Indeed, you have discovered something no one else has previously discovered, the evil bat of the dungeons can indeed express humor in the form of an inarticulate grunt. Shall I light the floo, so you can contact the Prophet?"

"No, no. That won't be needed. Who'd believe me anyway?"

"True. There are certain advantages to having the reputation that I have so industriously maintained."

Potter's snort amusement was a relief to hear after five days of constant fever that no one, not even himself, had been certain the boy would survive. Potter was still sweating off a low grade fever, but it had been over seventeen hours since his last spike, and more than twenty-six since his last hallucination.

It had been the hallucinations that Severus had hated most: listening to Potter beg his uncle for scraps of food or to please use the "other end" of the belt or sundry other worse memories that had cropped into the child's feverish mind. The pleas for food were the most frequent and explained -with unwanted clarity- the boy's still delicate frame and size.

Suddenly, and silently, Potter was at his elbow, but Severus didn't need to hide a flinch. Some time between the child being brought in fighting against the effects of the vampiric venom that was already burning through his magical core, and the child waking up from yet another haunting nightmare during the previous night to cry the last tears his soon-to-be near-immortal body would allow – Severus lost his fear of Potter, or of the creature he was becoming.

In Severus's experience, humans were always the cruelest of creatures, and this one, in particular, who had the most to blame him for and Lily's eyes to judge him from, had been particularly frightening to him, and hence, had been the one that he most ardently struck out against.

As the venom burned away his humanity into something that most other humans' fear without question or consideration, Severus found himself relaxing – finally relaxing as his father's familiar features re-molded on the boy's face becoming something refined and... elegant – finally relaxing as his mother's turbulent green eyes grew crimson then blood red -truly blood red- not the pale imitation of blood red that the Dark Lord's eyes mimicked, but true iron-rich, blood-red.

Vampires were but the embodiment of death, and death truly held no fear for him. Life was far more treacherous and untrustworthy.

Potter's first word's on waking didn't help to increase his fear either: "Did you know you smell like dandelions, parsnips, and flobberworms?"

Snorting at the the memory of the sleep-slurred voice, Severus poured another goblet of hart's blood from the decanter and handed it to Potter. It was good to see the boy on his feet.

Even though, as a newborn (newly-turned) vampire, Potter should have had an abundance of strength due to the remaining blood in his system, the arduous trial of surviving the burn of so many venomous bites had nearly burnt out the child's core and relied heavily on the newborn strength to survive.

"Are you laughing at me, again?" Potter whined good-naturedly.

"Now, why in Merlin's name would I do that?"

"No, Nuh-uh, I'm not going to give you a list of all the reasons to laugh at me!" Potter protested, bumping his shoulder with a friendly gesture that must have been born out of his earlier and extended delirium.

"Shall we let eloquence top the list?"

Groaning as he swallowed, with unnecessary haste, another goblet of Hart's blood, Potter shook his head and admitted, "I don't know that it's the top reason I'd pick, but it's not the worst, so let's go with it. ... Ugh. I ... That's not going to be easy to get used to."

"If I might ask..."

"Yeah, anything." Potter answered with foolish naivete and openness: Pure Gryffindor openness.

"I had expected that you would be more disturbed at the thought of having to drink animal blood than you seem to be." Admittedly it was a statement, rather than a question, but Potter understood and shrugged.

"I don't know. I remember watching something in civic's class back in primaries about nomads somewhere in the middle east, or Turkey maybe, where they had stints or something that they used to take goat's blood and mix it with something as a drink, and that grossed me out for a while, but later when that week ... when I was cooking my aunts and uncle's dinner, they wanted lamb, and I realized that in the documentary, after the blood had been taken and the cut was closed up, the goat got back up and ran off. The lamb my aunt and uncle were eating wasn't going to do that, so I guess it's along those lines. I never thought I'd actually have to, you know, drink blood, but now I don't see it any different than eating meat, or at least not more cruel than eating meat."

"Ah, I see. It boils down to the preservation of life. How characteristically you."

"Yeah, I guess." Potter answered, then shifted uncomfortably.

"Eloquent as always." Severus teased gently, hoping to ease the boy's discomfort at the acknowledgment.

"Sir?" Potter shifted uneasily away, as if he expected to be struck after his next question, and Severus wondered, with a tinge of guilt, how many times the child might have done so in his previous years that had gone without notice.

"Yes, Mr. Potter?"

"Why aren't you... you know... scared of me?" Although the boy's tone was casual, it really was too casual to be comfortable. Potter never spoke to anyone so easily or without deferential hesitation.

"Mr. Potter, have you ever heard the phrase that you should trust people to be who they are?"

"Errr. No."

"Simply put, it refers to the fact, that -regardless of the situation- a person's inner voice will guide them to act in accordance with who they truly are. It matters not whether you are human, goblin, or vampire: if you are inclined to be cruel, sadistic, or treacherous, you will act in a manner that accompanies that. Similarly, if you are cursed with Gryffindor blinders, an unquenchable sense of self-sacrifice, and the insane urge to take up for the underdog in any situation, you will do so whether you are human, house elf, or vampire. In short, Mr. Potter, I trust you to be you."

Potter stared at him incredulous, seeming at a loss for words, but finally glanced down at his fingers and nodded, clearly unaware that he couldn't give himself away by crying or blushing - anymore.

Severus was not inclined to point the fact out, deciding to let the child retain what little traces of his former humanity remained like little bits of innocence. Like all innocence, it would fade in time, but he would not crush it unnecessarily.

After several seconds, Potter's voice regained it's neutrality, "That's simply put?"

It was a weak attempt at humor, but to be encouraged, nonetheless.

"Yes," Sometimes the simplest answers were the best, as was quickly proven by the small smile that apparated to Potter's pale lips.


	2. It's a Boy!

"Dr. Cullen, your four o'clock is here," Nurse Emily Schoeffee, one of the more tolerable variations of her kind, interrupted Carlisle's perusal if the latest medical journal.

While Carlisle was quite certain that he had not scheduled a four o'clock appointment, he had no other appointments, rounds, or consultations scheduled either, so saw no reason not to accommodate an unexpected patient. His daughter had enigmatically suggested that someone would ask him something today and that he should say yes, but he somehow doubted that it would be a patient. Nevertheless, if it was, there was no reason to delay the request in whatever form it came.

"Very well, Emily, you may show him in." Ever thankful for the inordinate amount of flowery perfume the nurse wore in such content that it completely covered her human scent, Carlisle smiled warmly at her and kindly ignored her respondent blush.

The only reason that he had not requested her as his full time assisting nurse was Nurse Shoeffee's all too obvious crush. She was professional, of course; she was still vulnerable to the subtle allure of vampires, and Carlisle could not -in good conscience- do anything that might encourage her attachment to him.

Marking his place in the journal, Carlisle was about to set it aside when a familiar pungent scent with bitter associations entered the lab, some several moments ahead of it's bearer, a wizard of significant power. This was dangerous.

Rising to his feet to abort the meeting before the wizard could see him and recognize what he was, Carlisle was immediately frozen in his place by the appearance of a phoenix that blocked his way but seemed to have no other aggressive intention despite the long antipathy between their species. The message was clear enough: the wizard already knew what he was and had sent his familiar to prevent Carlisle's exit, literally giving Carlisle, who knew full well the phoenixes abilities, no means of escape.

He was about to reach for Esme's number on the speed dial, when the phone rang and Alice's number appeared in the display.

"It's alright, Daddy, he's not going to threaten us. He's the one who needs a favor. Please hear him out and tell him you'll do it. Please? Oh, and tell him that Jasper, Esme, and I'll come, too. Please?"

Sighing at her use of the term "Daddy", which she only used when trying to convince him to do something he was going to be utterly against. He was beginning to regret his decision to so thoroughly insulate his family from the magical world. He had kept them safe by doing so, certainly, but in exchange, they truly had almost no concept of the complications and threats involved in interacting with a world that Carlisle had gladly left behind.

"Alice..."

"Oh, please, Daddy. Please!"

"At least tell me what this is about."

"I can't. It's delicate and too much knowledge wouldn't be good. Oh, and you've got to get Edward to come, too. He won't want to come, but he should, he really should. It will be better for everyone if he does."

"Alice..."

"Excuse me, Dr. Cullen," a elderly but gentile british voice interrupted his conversation.

Glancing up, Carlisle was almost staggered by what he saw. He had remembered that wizards had odd tastes in clothing even a century ago, but what the wizard was wearing was positively bizarre even by those standards. Using color in the same way that Nurse Schoeffee used perfume, in over-abundance, his visitor's garb was far less successful than the Nurse's masking. The older man was dressed in a suite of brilliant purple velvet with metallic yellow pin stripes. His lapel, of a purple silk, was festooned with ornamental pins of the most bizarre variety, and on his head he wore a bowler hat of a brilliant (non-matching) purple felt, with a broad yellow velvet ribbon. He walked with cane that was definitely ornamental as Carlisle's practiced gaze quickly ruled out any physical infirmity, and his shoes were yellow (and yet a different shade of purple) saddle oxfords.

The most bizarre aspect of the matter; however, was not the wizard's garb itself, but his familiar's response to it. If Carlisle were inclined to question his observational skills, the sight of the phoenix rolling its eyes at the color display, before tucking its head under its wing would have certainly lead him to the task.

Alice giggling over the phone and her "Bye Daddy"didn't quite help matters, but he stifled a sigh and asked, "Yes, how may I help you?"

"I have been told that you and your wife have opened your home to several... gifted children and have done a marvelous job of offering them an alternative to the unwholesome lifestyles that they might have otherwise been forced to participate in."

"Yes," Carlisle answered tensely, vexed that the wizard already knew of his family.

"I realize that my request is... unique, but I wonder if you would possibly consider opening your home to another such... unfortunate?"

"What?" That was possibly the last question he had expected to be asked.

"Yes, there is a young man... in my community who has, recently, fallen into quite tragic circumstances. He has no parents; his relatives have all but abandoned him. Without a ... mentoring influence and burdened, through no fault of his own, with a difficult background, I fear that he faces a truly uncertain future. He is really quite a kind and gentle young man, and entirely undeserving of the miseries that he has suffered."

"How long have you known him?" Carlisle asked, needing to determine whether the wizard was projecting his own sympathies or acting from true knowledge.

"I am the headmaster of the boarding school he attended since he was eleven." The wizard responded in a note that suggested he wasn't being completely upfront, but Carlisle wasn't certain how he was being deceived.

"Tell me more about him," Carlisle hedged, going against his natural instinct to offer help to those in need. He had a family to protect, and interacting in the wizarding world could very easily interfere with his ability to do so. If he was going to agree as Alice suggested he should, it would only be on the basis of informed consent.

"Oh, Harry is quite a noble, gentle, young man, despite or perhaps because of the wont of care that his relatives have shown him. Fiercely brave and willing to risk everything to protect those he cares about, he has more than once put himself at great risk to protect his friends and those he considers family. He views and treats everyone he meets as equals and has done everything that he was able to please others."

Carlisle nodded grimly, easily grasping what the man was hinting at. It was sadly not uncommon for abused and neglected children to put others needs and desires above their own, if only to offer some greater value so that their associations would "stay".

"He is intelligent and talented but humble, and rarely allows others to know the depths of his abilities out of fear that he will alienate them. His greatest fears, now, I believe, are that his friends will be hurt and he... unable to protect them, but before this, I believe his greatest fears were of being rejected out of hand."

"You said he had a difficult background?"

"Yes. His parents, both, were murdered by a psychopath, who has become obsessed Harry. He has made five attempts on Harry's life, to date, the most recent less than seven days ago, when he kidnapped the child and a schoolmate and brought about the... change in circumstances that have lead me to you. The other young man, sadly, we could not save. I fear that, given the circumstances, I can no longer be certain of his safety."

Despite his reservations, Carlisle felt his resistance weakening. He could easily understand the Headmaster's concerns as they were stated; no matter how noble individuals had been in their previous life, in the first years after their turning newborns suffered from a near insatiable blood-lust. It would have only have been the worst of disasters to keep a newborn at a boarding school... even without the added fears of a psychopath who would consort with vampires, unless...

"This person, the psychopath, is he..."

"Oh, no!" The wizard answered immediately. "He's from my community, in Great Britain, and all too human, though he would wish otherwise. If you were to open your home for Harry, there are protections that could be used to keep him from locating Harry in the future."

Well, that simplified matters. A human – even a psychopathic human more than a continent away- was unlikely to pose a lasting threat.

"I realize that you have not elected to interact with our community and that this request places you in the unenviable position of having to do so. I can truly understand why you might not wish to do so, but. Harry is quite unlike anyone you have probably ever met. Please give him the benefit of the doubt and meet him before you make a final decision."

"Very well, allow me to contact my wife and children." Carlisle reluctantly agreed. While he didn't want to expose his family, more than necessary, he was certain that the child would need to meet Esme, at the very least, before he agreeng to join their family. Jasper's presence would probably be needed to calm the likely agitated newborn, and Edward's presence would be essential in anticipating any conflicts that the wizards might instigate. He was tempted to leave Alice behind, but was beginning to suspect that she hadn't told him everything for precisely that reason.

"Oh, Daddy. I'm so glad you said yes," Alice chirped, startling the pheonix from its nap, as she ran into the room and threw her arms around him. Standing behind her in the doorway were an amused Jasper and Esme, a grinning Emmett, Rosalie – as haughty as ever, and a clearly sulking Edward."

Apparently, it was going to be a family decision.

Turning back to the headmaster, Carlisle was hardly amused to find the old man chuckling. Sensing his vexation, the wizard grew appropriately solemn, despite his twinkling eyes, and gestured to the phoenix's tail.

"If each of you would be so kind as to grasp a tail-feather, Fawkes can have us there in moments."


	3. The Formalities

Waiting until the Cullen family regained their bearings and composure, Albus paused until their sire was watching him expectantly.

"May I conjure a few more chairs so that we might speak before we go to meet with Harry? There were some matters that I was not at liberty to discuss in your office."

"I suspected that you were not being completely forthright. Is this about the boy's sire?" The creature challenged.

"Sires, and yes, it is, in part, about them, but..."

"Sires? The Cullen's young blond son questioned with alarm. There were more than one?"

"Sadly, yes." Albus sighed wearily, then explained, "Thomas Riddle, the wizard responsible for Harry's kidnapping, intended to secure his own immortality by means dark acts and rituals, through which he intended to implant a shred of his soul into Harry's living body in hopes that doing so might make himself immortal by having the vessel of this shard _turned_ and enslaved."

"Ridiculous!" Cullen snarled. "Is he insane?!?"

"Most assuredly; however, prophecies, in our world, are taken very seriously, including a prophecy made before Harry was born, which stated among other matters that either Riddle or Harry must die at the hand of the other ' _for neither can live while the other survive_."

Albus paused to allow his meaning to settle in, pleased that they did not dismiss such matters out of hand. It would have been far more difficult for them to understand young Harry's needs if they did not grasp the ramifications that prophecy had inflicted on the child's life.

"Riddle read into this his own meaning ... convincing himself that by making Harry, his inverse and the host of his soul shred, immortal or undead, he would be both securing his immortality and bringing the prophecy to fruition; however, as cowardly as Tom may be, he is equally cautious, and he feared the other portion of the prophecy which claimed that Harry would have a power that he knew not. To that end, knowing that the power to survive a turning is drawn first from the wizards magical core and then from his physical cores, he had six vampires on hand to attack allowing them to bite him simultaneously, pump their venom into him before he betrayed and destroyed them. There was to be a seventh, who was to bite him after he turned, one who would be his controller, but with the help of a spy on the inside, we were able to rescue him before that occurred."

"Six..." the blond uttered in a pained note. "The inner thighs, wrists, collar bones. The last would have been on the jugular."

"We believe so, but there is so little information on such attacks." Albus agreed as he studied the seemingly-young man. It was clear that the Dr.'s son might know more, but conditions were not ideal to negotiate for additional information, particularly where it could relate to proscribed rites of the clans.

"Jasper?" Cullen asked, seeming as curious, thankfully.

One of the other two sons who had been turned away, studying his brother with concern, his eyes narrowing slightly as he stared at the silent blond. After a moment, however, it seemed as if he remembered the reference as well and explained, "Maria used the same method to contain difficult or rebellious newborns. The venom of the fist six sires, because of their locations and the fact that enough of the newborn's blood wouldn't have been drawn, confuse the newborn's instincts creating a pack imprinting. The bite of the seventh sire, being closer by virtue of the jugular vein to both the heart and brain, eclipses the control of the others, taking the role of the alpha of the pack. Unlike other pack's, however, the pull of the sire's vampire allure is much stronger, and thereby his control of his chylde that much stronger as well. The alpha can order the newborn to commit its own execution, and the newborn would comply."

The young creature frowned staring again at the blond before turning to their sire, "Even if we or he choose not to become family, you should claim him as his seventh sire to prevent another exploiting the vulnerability."

"If he is claimed, Edward," Dr. Cullen rose with a growl, "he will be family."

Whether it was only an instinctual response to the possibility of his authority being challenged, Albus couldn't say, but Cullen's immediate control of his coven was troubling. In Albus's experience, it was unnatural for five young males, of any species, but particularly to a species that defied both life and death, to accept such an announcement with such passivity, answering only, "Yes, Father." to which Dr. Cullen marginally mollified, but still grimacing.

For the first time since he come to this decision, Albus was forced to wonder whether he was he making another terrible mistake? Removing the child from one brutally uncaring home - only to place him in a family that he could not escape at a maturity he would never reach?

As if he had plucked the thought right out of Albus's mind, the second – or perhaps youngest of Cullen's sons shook his head and answered softly, "You misunderstand. It's simply respect. Yes, Carlisle would fight any of us if a serious, unreasonable challenge was made to his authority if he felt it threatened the rest of us, but he has never been anything but kind to us. He truly treats us as his children and has allowed us both the freedom and support that we have needed when we have needed it."

The young man's words would have eased Albus's concerns if he had borne any other face, but as Albus finally looked at Dr. Cullen's youngest son, all that he could see was the body of a young man whom he had carried in his arms to the infirmary, despite the fact that there was nothing that Madam Pomfrey could do for the child.

This could not be a good omen. What had he done? How could Harry bear to live with that face haunting him constantly? The child's grief and guilt were already unreasonable; this could not but be too much.

"Father!" The young man's voice became alarmed and a conversation suddenly ensued that Albus felt he should have been able to hear, but could not, even though a silencing spell had not been cast. From their expressions, the discussion seemed to be rather contentious, but Dr. Cullen quickly and decisively ended the matter.

"No, Edward. I understand that you are eager to return to Bella, but this is a family decision. You know why you are here, and if we choose to make this child one of our own, he will do so with full knowledge of the facts. I might add that I find it concerning that you can not bear to be parted from your presumed singer for even so much as an hour."

The young man's responding glower was so characteristically a teenager's petulance that Albus found himself relaxing immediately with mild amusement. Young men were ever so. The child was undoubtedly sulking at being kept away from his girlfriend. Oh, to be young when the innocent tribulations of youth seemed so important.

"Headmaster..."

"Dumbledore. I apologize for not introducing myself earlier; however, it is known that Riddle has placed a geis upon my name, and I did not wish to draw attention to your location."

"Thank you. Headmaster Dumbledore, perhaps it would be better to forestall any further discussion until we have been introduced to the young man."

"Of course, this way please."

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There was also the matter of Riddle's mistake that he would need to inform them of, Albus considered as they neared the infirmary, but perhaps that was better left until after they met with Harry.

If they or Harry chose not to join, it would perhaps be in Harry's best that no one knew that Tom had inadvertently freed Harry of his soul-shard.

If Tom made the discovery, he would undoubtedly see Harry's continued existence as a threat and set out to destroy the child again. No. Perhaps, it was better that the Cullens never know. He'd already harmed Harry enough by sharing secrets that he should have kept to himself.

Pushing away the image of Alastor Moody's cackling body transforming back into Barty Crouch as the polyjuice potion bled from his system, he gestured encouragingly toward the toward the infirmary door - not noticing that the young vampire, Edward, was staring at him with narrowed eyes.


	4. Chapter 4

_London, Ministry of Magic_

Watching the the press of creatures scurrying across their path only to turn and flee as they became aware of the impending approach of death personified was almost humorous, but not nearly so much so as to make the effrontery of being summoned out of hand, by cattle, to be held accountable for the actions of a few rogue visitors to the backward country.

Were it not for the information they possessed on the possible creation of an immortal child, Aro would have found it amusing to sanction a tracker for the sole purpose of discovering and divulging the most deeply buried secrets of every employee in the British Ministry. It was an urge that might take weeks to overcome, and he was truly curious how many careers and futures the Minister's audacity had put an end to, but that was truly of no matter.

The British magical ministry was garish, tasteless, and gauche in its excess – details which only heightened Aro's irritation with the pompous sack of blood that was waddling toward him - barely at the head of a platoon of the magical cattle's armed forces. Bolstered only by their presence and the cluster of cowing creatures drawing courage from each other, the humans' pathetic excuse for a leader was clearly attempting to present himself with an air of superiority. The display would have been ludicrous, even without the constant scent of terror rolling off the minister, in almost palpable waves.

Did the impotent fool truly believe that simply descending stairs from above would impress or intimidate? It would have been nothing to jump to the landing with barely a stride. He could have pierced the creature's neck before his police had the chance to take a second breath, if any had escaped the notice of Aro's companions, and drained him dry within moments after that; although the thought of the corpulent politico's taste almost sent a shudder through him.

"Welcome, welcome, Minister Aro. I am so pleased that you could join us today." The fool wheezed for his audience.

The remainder of the meeting, Aro would not even consign to his memory, beyond a meaningless tour of the Ministry, which included the holding cells where the wizards had actually locked the headless bodies of the six rogues that they were accusing of creating the immortal child – as if they feared that the decapitated bodies would suddenly rise, retrieve the ashes of their burnt skulls and take revenge.

Perhaps they did; who could tell what went on in these creatures minds; he could, truth be told – but Aro was not in the habit of revealing many truths even to his own closest associates, much less the to the cattle who did not have the intelligence to avoid the attention of their predators. When the Minister had the gall to ask what Aro wished done with the bodies, Aro merely laughed and waved an as you will to the wizard. What should he care how the bodies were disposed of? It sufficed that they were dead, as would their creation soon be.

Aro's blasé attitude, he finally realized, was all that had been needed from the first to take the wind out of the wizard's sails, and prompt the bloated windbag into revealing the location of the immortal child, who was, ironically, taking refuge at a school under the care of a misguided, but powerful wizard (a description which Aro read to mean one of the minister's political opponent.) Only too pleased to be taking his leave from the pitiful creature, who was still sputtering about negotiating for the location of the immortal child as their party turned away, Aro dispersed a handful of trackers to see to his earlier whim, and made his way with Caius, Marcus, June, and Alex, and a small handful of his guard, to the school, whose location he'd taken from the man's mind with a small touch on the bloated creature's wrist.

It was unlikely that the wizards keeping the newborn would be ready to wage a war, if they still lived, but he brought the phalanx of his guards, who had admittedly grown bored in the recent decades of peace, and were likely to chafe under the bit if not given some interest to divert them. With that in mind, after arriving at the gates of the school, to scent only a handful of humans and one vampire, Aro dispersed the guard to hunt, keeping only June and Alex with them as they turned to the castle gates.

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 _Scotland, Hogwarts Castle_

"Here, Little Newborn, give me your hand." Aro ordered, the newborn, in a deceptively light tone.

The surprising fledgling vampire seemed to be the only one who did not recognize that Aro could draw his every thought from that contact; although, he did seem to have the sense to recognize the jeopardy in being so close to Aro, for he turned to the dark-haired human – not Carlisle whose venom still smelt and glistened in the bite on his throat: the bite of a seventh sire, making the child un-claimable by any other. Odd, but there was little about this small newborn that was not odd.

"Should I, Sir?" Again, the question was asked to the human, and Carlisle permitted it.

Aro frowned, disapprovingly; it was one matter to reject a potential food source out of hand – out of empathy, but quite another to permit the food to command the newborn, much less to interfere with the sire's authority.

It was not even to Carlisle that the impertinent human's eyes turned, but to Aro.

Bowing formally, if stiffly with a bare modicum of grace, for his kind, the dark-haired wizard, asked in a soft penitent voice, "Lord Regent, may I inform my student of your identity? I assure you he intends no offense; his studies in our academy have not reached the level that he would have come to know of the Volturri."

Interesting. So this was one of the boy's instructors before his rebirth. It explained why the child would be conditioned to turn to the human, although not why Carlisle would permit it.

"Yes, I will permit it." At least this human, had some concept of etiquette.

"Harry, you are in the presence of the de facto Lord Regent of Vampires, who founded the Volturri, the largest known vampire coven in existence. Under his reign, the Volturri seized the title of royalty by right of conquest from the Romanian Coven, whose name is no-longer spoken, established reforms in the laws ruling Vampires throughout the world, and has existed stably, longer than any other known governmental body."

"Oh." The child's crimson eyes turned back and forth from the human to Aro – dumbstruck.

After a moment, he extended his hand to Aro, stammering a weak, rambling apology: "I'm sorry, Your Majesty. Professor Snape's right, I didn't mean to offend you. Please forgive me. I'm pretty much of an idiot, most of the time. I should have..."

The child's sheepish ramblings faded the surge of memories pouring without reticence from the child's willing mind, but not before Aro, caught and noted the Professor's name. There was something about the wizard that would bear later consideration.

The boy's memories poured rapidly through Aro's thoughts, easily appraised and sat aside due to the dismal sameness of the boy's early life. The three previous years interrupting the child's home-life with small bouts of interest interspersed by more mind-numbing sameness focused in the pursuit of lessons, were equally easy to analyze boiling down to a few key moments and decisions.

By contrast, it was the most recent week that took somewhat longer to consider and interpret. After confirming that Carlisle had not been involved in turning the young man, but instead had been recruited to offer the child a home among his "own kind", Aro was able to turn his attention to the threat posed by the child, and focused on the minutes just before he, Marcus, and Caius entered the room.

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 _Carlisle had appeared perturbed, almost angry as he entered the room, whispering in undertones to his children who were protesting that they could not trust these wizards. He ordered them to be on their guard, but to let him deal with everything- not considering the fact that the newborn might overhear and misconstrue the warnings as a threat to the human, who had been feeding from a goblet of hart's blood._

 _They were not even in the door, before the child had pushed the human behind him, and was growling like an angry cur at Carlisle. Carlisle's expression had been priceless and his children... Aro would find much to chuckle about in their expressions as they studied the child who was crouched and ready to challenge any of them to protect his human._

 _For once, nothing that Carlisle said seemed to get through to the stubborn newborn, and it was only the touch of the human on the child's shoulder and a chastising comment that calmed him._

 _"How is this possible?" Carlisle asked the question that Aro found himself wondering about._

 _"What? How's what possible?" The child challenged even as he ripped his eyes away from Carlisle to stare at the schools headmaster with a penetrating gaze that darkened with hunger._

 _"Headmaster, Out!" the professor that the child called Snape, ordered._

 _"My Dear Boy, I assure ..."_

 _"Out!" The child roared, his eyes darkening with thirst, even as Carlisle's son pushed the resistant wizard out of the room._

 _"Professor, I – I need..." So the child did have a natural blood lust, but then how did he resist it?_

 _"I know Potter, hold on a moment." The human rushed over to a crimson-filled pitcher as the child sank to the ground._

 _From the background of the child's thoughts, Aro felt the child pulling forward familiar scenes until the echoes of them rang in the child's mind:_

 _"What are you?" the child's belligerent uncle questioned._

 _"A freak." The child's answer._

 _"What do freak's get to eat?"_

 _"Only what they earn."_

 _"Why?"_

 _"Because they're a burden." The child's memories warbled back, silencing the calling of human blood. Silencing everything, until the human, Snape, taking his life in his hands, forced the child's head back to pour blood from the goblet into the child's mouth._

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Although curious, the solution to the newborn's hunger was not what Aro had hoped it would be; it was not a method or trait that he could transfer to the containment of future newborns, nor a talent that he could exploit in the boy. In fact, the boy had very little in the way of talent, strength, or skill that he could offer the Volturri: Riddle, the self-proclaimed, dark lord's misuse of the rite had extinguished the boy's magic, bled off the boy's newborn strength, and left the child an unusable political asset, whose notoriety among the fickle wizarding public seemed too erratic to be useful.

If allowed Caius his way, the child would be executed, and Carlisle's friendship destroyed. Yet, the child was - by definition - still that, even under vampyhric terms, and thus arguably an immortal child, even having features that would inspire trust and caring in those it might pray upon. Aro was in need of a viable reason to retain the commodity of Carlisle's friendship, without alienating Caius.

Suddenly, just as the memory of the child's earlier answer - "Why would I want to eat him, he smells like dandelions and flobberworms," to a question that Aro had ignored the memory of Carlisle asking - came to mind, Marcus brushed his wrist and commented out loud, "I propose a test. If our little newborn truly is an immortal child, he will not be able to resist the calling of his professor's blood. If he can resist, then the child is clearly not an immortal child, nor a threat to our laws."

The message that Marcus sent with his touch was far different, however, and far more intriguing.

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"Aro, other than your sister's hand, I have never asked anything of you, in over three thousand seven hundred years. I ask now: I want to turn the human; he intrigues me, but he will not be had if the child is killed."

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"I propose a test. If our little newborn truly is an immortal child, he will not be able to resist the calling of his professor's blood. If he can resist, then the child is clearly not an immortal child, nor a threat to our laws." Marcus proposed glibly, his touch so light and rapid that Aro was almost certain not even Caius noticed.

Turning an eye to the human, Aro nodded. There was something about the human that drew consideration, and if it could spark the first sign of interest that he had seen in Marcus since the first century, then he was all the more willing to persuade the human to be turned.

"Are you willing?"

"I am." Curiously, Aro noticed for the first time, that the human had not once – even while surrounded by vampires and entirely alone- smelled of fear. The only one in fact who did seem to be frightened of the prospect was the newborn himself.

Turning back to his professor, the child shook his head, in mute protest.

"Remember what I told you Potter, regarding Gryffindor's, house elves, and vampires?"

"Yes, Sir."

Gesturing them all back, the human, drew his wand and was clearly about to cast a spell of some type on his hand, when Caius interrupted, "Remove the hind's blood. It is no test of his will if he has an alternative."

The human's glare at Caius was almost worthy, but he complied sending the pitcher out of the room with a wave of his wand.

"Satisfied?" the human's hiss was respectable.

"Barely," Caius huffed, gesturing back to the wand and the human's hand.

The spell cast and blood welled in the Professor's hand...

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Tbc...


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: the Twins: I realize that there would presumably be a visible age difference between Harry and Alice Cullen, but when I google'd for several images of each, I felt that their features were similar enough that an age difference, particularly after Harry's been turned might not be noticeable enough to be noticed.

"Em, I'm certain that Dr. Cullen is perfectly fine." Charlie Swan tried to reassure the nurse while attempting to stay far enough away from her to escape the oppressive cloud of perfume she was wearing. As it was, the sheriff was pretty certain that he was going to need to re-wash his uniform several times to get rid of the scent.

Turning the knob to the Doc's office door, Charlie made a small mental note of the fact. In his little experience with the doc, he'd found that the man was very detail oriented and very circumspect in maintaing patient confidentiality. It was very much unlike the Doc to leave his records accessible.

"But, Sheriff Swan, you don't understand. Dr. Cullen always tells me before he goes out, and the oddest old man came in today, saying he had an appointment, but when I went to check he didn't... And when I came back, Dr. Cullen was gone. I don't think the old man was right in the head, and he could have hurt the Doctor."

"While I have, myself, on occasion, wondered whether Mr. Dumbledore was non compos mentis, I can assure you that he harbored no ill intentions to Dr. Cullen." An unusually cultured voice caught both Charlie and the Nurse by surprise as they turned to look in the office.

To their surprise, when looked into his office, they found Dr. Cullen, his wife, kids, another kid that Charlie didn't recognize, and an odd looking fellow, clearly not a local, and dressed in a strange outfit, who reminded Charlie of one of the catholic priests that he'd seen when he drove down to Seattle to pick one of Nick Ottero's boys, Johnny.

Johnny, who'd tried to run off with his girlfriend and elope, had ended up running out of money and enthusiasm by the time they'd been refused by the fourth church they visited. The priests had talked the kids into holding off on their plans to get married until after they'd graduated and could support themselves... and calling their parents to pick them up. Nick had been in a car accident a couple of weeks before, though, and couldn't drive down.

The fellow had the same type of starchy no-nonsense air that they'd had, except maybe a bit edgier, probably the kind of man that people thought of as a Hell and Brimstone Preacher. The smile that he was giving Charlie certainly wasn't the kind of smile that Charlie thought of as friendly or tolerant, and the look in his eyes made Charlie feel as if he was being measured inside and out, and maybe not quite measuring up. After a moment, though, the man's gaze eased up, and Charlie let out a relieved breath.

"Hi, Doc. Everything alright? You gave Em, here, quite a scare." Charlie asked studying the man who'd spoken earlier.

"Yes, Sheriff. Everything is fine. I apologize, Emily, I should have let you know that I was stepping out for a few moments. I did not realize that I would be delayed."

"The apologies should be mine," the man interrupted. "Sheriff. Allow me to introduce myself, I am Father Severus Sebastien, of the Holy Cross, in Lancashire. If I could ask for a few moments of your time, and that of Ms. ..." The father glanced at Dr. Cullin, seeming to ask for an introduction.

The doc must have been off in his thoughts, though. It took him a couple of seconds to answer, and he seemed a little confused to Charlie when he did answer, "Oh, my apologies, this is Nurse Emily Schoffee and the gentleman beside her, Sheriff Charles Swan."

"Nurse Schoffee, Sheriff Swan, would you be willing to act as official witnesses to the completion of documents of adoption?"

"You're adopting another child?" Charlie laughed, caught off-guard. "What are you going for a full baseball team? You already have enough for a basketball team."

"As amusing as that suggestion is, no. We..."

"Isn't it great?" The Doc's younger daughter interrupted in a rush of excitement, "we found my brother, and we're adopting him, too."

Running over to the kid that Charlie had noticed earlier, she grabbed his hand and pulled him forward a bit.

"Come on, Harry. Meet Sheriff Swan. He has a daughter named Bella that goes to the same school we do. Sheriff Swan, this is Harry my brother. He was living in England and going to school there, too. Well, of course, he'd go to school there, if he was living there, but you know what I mean, and Father Sebastian was one of his professors, and he's come to help get Harry settled in and take care of the paperwork and stuff like that but that's pretty boring, and anyway, you haven't said "Hi" yet. Come on Harry, say "Hi"? Did you say "Hi"? If you did, I missed it. Don't mind him, Sheriff. He's shy, but he's nice."

When they were side by side, Charlie was surprised that he hadn't noticed the similarities before, but then he hadn't really been looking for them either. Thankfully, the kid seemed quieter than his sister, or the Cullen's would have had their hands full. Charlie almost shuddered at the thought of the Cullen's daughter on a sugar rush, and thanked his stars that his own daughter, Bella, was more laid back. Still, with six children, who Charlie had never known to get into mischief which was pretty amazing when there had been three teenage boys in the mix, the Cullen's were probably old hats at keeping them occupied.

"Hello, Sir," the kid's tone was very quiet and respectful. Well, time around his sister would probably change that, just out of self defense, or he'd never get a word in edgewise.

"Alice, Dear. Your interrupting," Ms. Cullen chastised her daughter gently and drawing her back to her side.

"No, I'm not. I'm introducing. Everyone else knows who everyone else is, but no one introduced Harry." She huffed, but subsided at a look from her father.

"Well, now that the niceties have been seen to," Father Sebastian commented dryly, "Perhaps we can address some of the boring paperwork that young Miss Cullen mentioned, so that your wife and children can take Harry to your home and perhaps get him something to eat. I believe the plane has left trip has left him quite famished."

"Yes, it must have been a trying day." The Doc commented, smiling kindly at the kid, before he turned back to Father Sebastian. "Do you have everything you'll need? Should I call for one of the hospital's notaries?"

"There is no need. Harry's previous guardians relinquished all custody and guardianship rights when he was eleven. He was named a ward of the school at that time, and the documents that I will ask you to sign will be sufficient for the school to transfer custody to you and your wife. When I return, I will submit the to my superiors, who will file for an official writ of custody with our government, and given the usual expediency of our ministry you may expect to receive notification for the writ by the time he graduates college."

The man's sense of humor was dry, but Charlie had worked with enough paper pushers to know that the Father might not be too far off the mark.

Unrolling a tube of fancy paper that looked like it was written in gibberish, the Father handed it to Doctor Cullen, who signed it and stepped aside for his wife to sign.

"What's that written in?"

"Latin," The Doc explained quietly as the Father stepped aside to speak with Cullen's new kid. "Many Churches and Church affiliated organizations still maintain records in Latin. Particularly, overseas."

After the Father and the kid signed the roll, Charlie and Em stepped up, signed the papers, and gave their congratulations to Dr. and his wife. Em went back to work, and Charlie was just about to when Father Sebastian laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Could you stay a few moments?" The man asked enigmatically.

"Sure." It was a Thursday. Bella already had plans to go shopping with some friends, and their was no reason for him to be home before nine or so.

Once they'd sent Harry off with Mrs. Cullen and the kids, Father Sebastian turned to Charlie and the Doc, and asked them to sit down. Whatever he had to say, Charlie knew, right away, that it wasn't going to be good. The man was just taking far too much time rolling the papers up and tucking them away for it to be anything good.

"Dr. Cullen, having spoken with the headmaster, I realize that you are already aware of some of this; however, I believe that it is in Harry's best interests if I elaborate on what you may have already been told. As the Sheriff was not privy to the earlier discussion, I believe that it would be best if I first give him a brief bit of background information on Harry, with your permission, of course."

"I trust your judgment," the Doc said guardedly, putting Charlie even more on edge.

"Very well. Sheriff Swan, when Alice and Harry were 6 months old, two men orchestrated the home invasion and murder of their parents. One of these men was an anarchist by the name of Tom Riddle, the other a convicted criminal, Sirius Black. For reasons I wouldn't care to speculate on, Riddle became fixated on Harry, and - although both men were incarcerated - the children were separated for their safety.

The case worker in charge of the children's case lost track of them, and subsequently never followed up, nor discovered that the relatives that Harry had been placed with were actually quite abusive. His relatives were not only physically but also emotionally and verbally abusive. They neglected his most basic needs, denied him the advantages of a higher education, treated him as a virtual slave, literally keeping him in a cupboard, and lied to the neighbors- claiming that he was violent and was attending a school for criminally insane boys. Nothing could be further from the truth.

Despite their vile treatment of him, Harry is quite a kind and gentle young man. Due to their neglect and deprivation, his physical, emotional, and educational development have been – for lack of a better word - stunted, but he is slowly gaining ground on what he was denied. While he may, on occasion, act as young as a 13 or 14 year old, lacking the confidence and experience that most young men his age have acquired, neither his intellect nor drive have been hampered, and I have confidence that he will, with tutoring soon reach the educational milestones expected of him. Harry, all in all, is a resilient young man, despite the trials he has survived.

My primary concern, at this moment lie with the two men that I mentioned previously. Less than a week ago, Harry was kidnapped by Riddle and barely survived the ordeal. Riddle, once again, escaped capture. Black, too, has escaped custody, and was heard to make threats on Harry's life when he was last spotted. While both men are currently in England, and I do not believe that it is likely that they will be able to locate Harry, much less get out of the country, or much less make it past customs of any other nation. I did feel that you should be apprised of the situation."

To say Charlie was staggered was an understatement. This was the kind of news that should only be given out with two bottles of rum and a chaser. He had to admire both the kid and the Doc though. Charlie had only seen abuse cases a handful of times, and the survivors had to be admired; he wondered, though, if the Doc really understood kind of kid he'd taken on. It wouldn't be easy, even if the kid really was as good a kid as they Father described. That kind of life left scars on the inside and out.

"Well, I'll keep my eye out, then, and let the good doctor know if we get any strangers in town."

"Thank you, Charles. That would be appreciated."

Shaking his head as he left, Charlie couldn't help but wonder how the Cullen's managed to do it. Taking in all the kids they'd had and making sure they turned out good. As he thought about it, he flipped open his cell phone, and dialed his daughter.

"Hey Sweetheart, stay home tonight. No, no reason. No, nothing's wrong. I just want to spend some time with my little girl."


	6. A Rite of Passage

Emmett smirked at Harry's dumbfounded expression and dropped a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. The shopping trip had given both he and Jasper a chance to get to know their new brother a bit better, and Emmett found that he kind of liked the little guy as the kid started to relax more.

"Don't worry, you'll get used to it." He assured Harry and laughed outright at the flare of pure disbelief that flared in the kid’s eyes.

Glancing back to Alice and Rosalie, who were blithely engaged in a vigorous conversation about the various combinations of items that filled the numerous shopping bags they were unloading and dispersing between the brothers, Harry asked in a whisper, "Do they do this often?"

"This? You mean shopping? Yes, they do - quite often. "

"That wasn't just shopping," Harry muttered in a stunned tone, when he saw - with obvious relief - that their sisters were already headed inside - similarly loaded down with shopping bags. After a moment, he shook his head and complained softly, "that was like.. Well, like ... like being kidnapped and turned into a dress up doll. Do they do that often?"

Chuckling at the description, Emmett answered, “"No, I wouldn't say they do that very often, although there was that one time that they thought I was wearing football jerseys too often..."

When he trailed off, Edward supplied sheepishly, “Or the time that I simply mentioned that I truly didn't care whether styles had changed.”

“Oh and then” Emmett grinned taking up the answer again, “then there was the time when Jazz had eight different leather jackets, … oh and then there was the time with Esme, but that was mostly for her birthday, oh and..."

"That sounds like it happens pretty often." Harry interrupted, wide eyed.

"Perhaps so,” Jasper agreed, grabbing an armful of packages from the trunk, ”but try to take it in stride. It is ‘just their thing’. You'll get used to it, and when the time comes, you'll be able to explain it to Severus when they do it to him."

"What?!? They wouldn't!" Harry’s mortified expression was hilarious, and Emmett was certain that he wasn’t the only one having difficulty holding their laughter in.

Emmett cocked an eyebrow at Harry, as if the matter were almost to obvious to even require an explanation even as he provided one: "he dresses like Bella Lugosi. Of course, they will."

"Oh Merlin," Harry gasped before his voice broke with an unexpected snicker as he imagined his Potion Master and Rosalie facing off in the middle of a muggle clothing store. The image became even more humorous as he imagined the haughty blond vampire shoving a pair of printed y-fronts into his professor's hands and pointing toward the dressing room, just as she as she had with him less than two hours ago.

“I beg to differ,” The subject of their discussion interrupted, his voice sounding dry and scratchy.

“If I should choose to compare myself to any cinematic interpretation of vampirism, solely on the basis of wardrobe, it would have to be Louis Jourdan.”

“Professor Snape!” Harrry spun his heels and rushed forward, only to stop quickly and hover uncertainly a few feet away from their newborn brother - peppering him with questions: “Are you okay? Should you be up, yet? Are you hungry, yet? Would you like me to get you another cup? Have you checked on your magic? “Are …”

“If you are truly interested in the answers to your spate of questions, perhaps you might consider pausing briefly between each so that I may at least interject a monosyllabic grunt,” Severus interrupted, nodding a brief acknowledgement to them even as he watched Harry with amusement.

“Sorry, Sir.” Harry answered with a sheepish smile, dropping his gaze and pushing his hands into his pocket.

“Considering that the Headmaster should be receiving my resignation within the hour, and that we are now siblings - of a sort, perhaps it would be more appropriate if you call me Severus... or if you like, Sev; as it was your mother’s preference to abbreviate my name.”

“I- Er... Are you serio-- I mean... you’re sure... you wouldn’t mind? If I call you, Sev?” Severus’s smile softened as he nodded and took half of Harry’s shopping bags from him.

“Tell me, how did you enjoy your shopping trip?"

Emmett, Jasper, and Edward broke into broad grins at Harry as he seemed to grope for a fitting description, before shrugging and and murmuring, “you’ll see.”

“Shall we?” Emmett laughed, gesturing toward the door, hoping to distract their new brother from Harry’s warning - quite certain that the temperamental man would do whatever it took to avoid the shopping trap if he had fair-forewarning.

Shopping with Rosalie and Alice, in Emmett’s mind was quite nearly a right of passage into the family, and truth be told, he was looking forward to watching Sev and Rosalie go head to head.

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"Here Harry, try this on." Alice chirped as she pulled the t-shirt he'd just tried on out of his hands and pushed another, slightly more-tailored shirt with a collar at him.

Glancing out the window, Harry watched anxiously for Severus, Dr. Cullen, and Emmett to return from their hunting trip. Emmett had promised that Severus would be okay, but Harry just wasn't sure. He couldn't understand why his professor had decided that he wanted to hunt a bear instead of a deer for his first meal, anyway, and Severus hadn't been willing to explain.

"What?" he asked, his attention coming back to them as he felt the shirt being pulled out of his hands.

"Let's see," Rosalie hmmmed with seeming curiosity, "you're as bare-chested as a babe, you've been trying on clothes for the past two-and a half hours, and she just now put a shirt in your hands. I wonder what she could possibly want you to do?"

Blushing, Harry pulled the shirt over his head, relieved when it momentarily obscured her derisive expression. 

"Don't mind her," Alice suggested, "she's just a bit on the sarcastic side."

From how unaffected Rosalie seemed by her comment, Harry guessed that it was something she had heard a number of times before and relaxed, shrugging as he offered, in return, "it was a bit of a stupid question. Severus doesn't like those either. He thinks I'm a bit of a dunderhead."

"Oh no, I'm sure he doesn't ." Alice denied lightly.

Harry shook his head with a laugh and answered, "He's told me so, but I can't really blame him. I am a bit of a dunderhead, at times, and probably caused him more trouble than I'm worth, but he's always watched out for me - even when I thought he was out to get me."

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"Sounds like a case of hero worship to me." Alice murmured gently, softening her tease with a friendly smile. Her smile brightening when he dipped his head, as though to hide his non-existent blush, and Rosalie's expression softened with amusement.

"He is a hero, though," he protested self-consciously.

"Really?!?" Rosalie's tone was a bit too sharp, Alice thought. Her sister was probably still smarting from Severus's sharp commentary. Harry didn't seem to notice though.

"Yeah." He answered firmly, before asking, "Did the headmaster tell you about Voldemort or the first war?"

"Not in detail, no."

"Oh, well, I don't know very much about it, but... Severus was a spy for our side in a group called the Death Eaters."

"Death Eaters?!?" Rosalie snorted. "What a ridiculous name."

Alice worried for a moment that Rosalie's insensitivity would offend Harry, but he cocked his head a little staring at her oddly before a small smile crept to his lips.

"It is rather, isn't it?"

His smile warmed a bit and he chuffed a small chuckle: "Might have been interesting to see Lucius sodding Malfoy try to explain it."

"Language, Harry."

From Harry's bright, relieved smile, Alice could tell that he had apparently returned unscathed, but when she turned to see Severus leaning in the doorway, she could only feel a stab of disappointment.

"You've already been shopping," She pouted.

"How astute of you to notice," he replied, and Harry shot her a glance that very much said 'I told you so.'

"We wanted to take you shopping," she protested, gesturing between herself and Rosalie, who was glowering at him with her arms crossed over her chest.

"Indeed, I overheard a discussion of the possibility and decided to spare myself the indignity."

Alice would have found a retort to that, but paused noticing that when Harry's eyes turned back to Severus, he stilled and caught an unnecessary breath. Apparently, Harry hadn’t taken a close look at Severus on his first glance. In all fairness, if his current outfit was any indication, it looked like they might not need to take his wardrobe in hand.

Severus was lanky enough and had stern enough features that he could carry off the fitted brown leather slacks and distressed aviator’s jacket without looking silly. The boots he had chosen to wear with them were a bit plain but had a practical/functional appearance and looked a bit scuffed already although Alice knew that he could have only just bought them. She couldn’t decide what was more surprising, though, the fact that he’d managed to do his shopping and get his hair highlighted in such a short time, or that he’d chosen a nice mix of accessories to soften the look (including a leather braided bracelet and a roughly sculpted jade snake pendant hanging just between his collar bones on a leather cord)

"Indignity?!?" Rosalie shrieked. "Indignity? You think you won't suffer indignity when you're laughed at for the way you're dressed? And who did your hair anyway? It's... passé for guy's to wear ponytails any more. 80's retro is just ... just..."

"Precisely in character with the background that your father and I have decided upon."

“He's your father, too," Rosalie snapped, irritably.

“In our terms, perhaps, but in muggle eyes, it would stretch credibility beyond reasonable boundaries; however, if you've finished traumatizing Harry, Carlisle, Esme, and I would like to discuss certain matters with him."

Harry almost looked panicked at the thought, and Alice suspected she knew why.

“Just two more changes, and we'll give him back. " Alice promised with smile.

Severus studied her for a moment then glanced to Harry, who was twisting the edge of his shirt, which had become untucked without her noticing and was now hanging significantly longer.

"”Harry is not a dress up doll, Ladies." Severus chastised with an amused smile that fell slightly when Harry quickly glanced away in embarrassment.

"It'-it's f-i -ne, S-ir." Harry stammered, really too adorable for all that he couldn't blush as he seemed to think he was- ducking his head when the others studied him. 

"Very well," Severus agreed reluctantly, "join us downstairs when you are finished."

"Yes, Sir."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In deference to WindyDarLing, who pointed out that "You can't just call 20 and 30+ year olds "children", I'm adopting an odd spelling, "chyldren", that I read in a Twilight fic some time back. Sorry, I can't give proper attribution, as I can't remember the fic's title; but, if the spelling is familiar, and you know the fic it’s from, I would love to give credit where credit’s due.


	7. Finding Balance

“Severus,” Carlisle questioned his newest chylde, with an amused smile, having overheard, even from a floor below, his chyldrens' conversation. 

“Shall we take a walk while we wait for the girls to finish with Harry?” He asked in a tone slightly lower than a human conversational tone would be, but that would nevertheless still inform the entire house of their location. 

At Severus’s nod, he opened the sliding glass door and gestured before him.

They walked in comfortable silence for closed to fifty yards, before Carlisle bent to pick up an opened pine cone. After fingering the stiff almost sharp edge of one scale and the hard almost barb at it’s tip, he handed it over to Severus, who was watching him with veiled curiosity. 

“Cupressaceae Sequoioideae Sequoia sempervirens,” Carlisle offered casually, “Are you familiar with the taxonomy?”

“Yes,” Severus responded cautiously. “It is a cone from a tree of the Cypress family; the species ranges from...” he turned the cone over in his fingers studying the waxed, woody surface with a critical eye before continuing, “the Central Coast of California north, although...” 

He paused rubbing his fingers over the edge again before continuing, “this specimen would suggest that it might not usually be found as far north as our current location.” 

“Yes,” Carlisle conceded, “over the past century, I have found the occasion to carry various cones and seeds with me, from one residence to the next... You might call it a hobby of mine: propagating life, where it is least expected.”

“An interesting hobby... or calling card.” Severus answered, seeming casual, but Carlisle suspected that Severus likely felt that it was the safest comment he could make.

In many ways, Severus reminded him of his other chyldren.

Although he had been in his mid thirties at his turning, Severus's emotional growth and maturity seemed to have been stunted by his past to the level of a young man in his early twenties, perhaps even younger, younger certainly than Jasper, yet older than Emmett.

Against Edward, Carlisle wasn't certain, having too little exposure to Severus to make an accurate comparison.

Prior to Harry, while Edward had been the youngest turned, on an emotional level, he was well older than Emmett, Alice, and Rosalie... It was only the tempering of Jasper's experiences during the civil war and after that had given him the greater maturity, and perhaps his gift of empathy.

Perhaps it was fitting that his turning had wiped away much of his previous life's wear an tear - for wont of a better phrase, giving Severus the smooth, unwrinkled appearance of a young man slightly older than his own children, but only by a handful of years. 

Where Severus would fall between them, Carlisle believed would depend on how deftly he, himself, gained the young man's trust and acceptance and how well he guided him in his new life... and the difficulties that he had willingly if somewhat unknowingly taken on in - bargaining away his own liberty with Aro, Marcus, and Caius for Harry's freedom to return with Carlisle's family to the states. If they had not been so outnumbered by the Volturri and wizards alike, Carlisle would never have condoned the silently negotiated agreement and unspoken arrangements for Severus to become Marcus's consort, and only hoped now that he could ease Severus's transition as much as possible before his new chylde would have to leave them. 

“Excellent, a botanist, engaged in field research, then.” Carlisle remarked, setting aside his unsettling thoughts, and alluding to their earlier construction of Severus's back-story for the forks community, he continued “It easily incorporates a freedom of travel, indefinite schedule, some previous teaching experience, as well as a scientific nature.”

“As you say,” Severus agreed quietly, but -if forced to guess- Carlisle would suspect that he liked the suggestion, based on the absence of hesitancy in his response.

Gently taking the cone back from Severus, Carlisle turned it slowly.

Knowing that he had captured his son's attention, Carlisle mused: “Have you ever considered the cone as a delivery device? Cones have a paradoxical ingenuity, both in pattern and material: encasing fragile-winged seeds in a thick, indigestible, woody sheath, which can take from months to years before maturing sufficiently to release their seeds for wind dispersion to prevent overcrowding, if the cone hasn't already fallen. While some varieties simply dissolve to release their seed caches, others will only respond to the harshest of conditions, devastating fires, tsunamis, and similar - becoming most productive in the face of adversity.”

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“An interesting choice of metaphor,” Severus responded dryly, suspecting, now, that Carlisle was preparing to segue into a caution regarding Severus's behavior and role in the coven.

"I am certain that you have a point you wish to make; however, I assure you it is entirely unnecessary...” Severus began, hoping to deflect Carlisle's impending speech.

“Perhaps,” Carlisle interrupted, his lips quirking, “far be it for me to carp on inanities; I am rather more than curious, however, what corollaries you might draw from such a metaphor."

Severus pulled a step away, startled at finding himself so neatly entrapped by a turn of his own words and stared at Carlisle for a moment.

It irked him more than slightly that he could not find it in himself to be truly irritated with the man. Somewhat uncomfortably, he suspected that his unusual lack of animosity at being out-maneuvered directly related to Carlisle being his sire.

Certainly, he would never have found similar manipulations from Albus nearly as acceptable.

Sighing with resignation at his slightly unnatural and unprecedented desire to comply with his sire's request, he parroted back: “Far be it for me...” then continued a bit more politely than he wished, “but I assume the primary comparison you're inclined to suggest I make is a comparison between my personality and the barbed cypress cones.”

“An interesting suggestion to consider,” Carlisle agreed, and Severus was almost disconcerted by the fact that he could not quite sneer in response.

"But, I am somewhat more curious how broadly you feel the analogy might apply? For instance, how might Alice be considered, in these terms?" Carlisle continued catching Severus off-guard with the unexpected segue.

'Alice?' Severus asked himself dumbly; he had not even been thinking of Alice and had no idea what Carlisle might intend to get at by bringing her into the discussion. There must be some point to it, he was certain, but Carlisle's brief comments had been too enigmatic to give him a clear direction to anticipate.

Considering the girl, Severus shook his head, not seeing how the analogy applied at all. Alice seemed absolutely devoid of the defensiveness that underlay the metaphor. How could it possibly apply to her? Although she had adeptly kept their shared secrets from the Sheriff, it was by behaving with such open eagerness and utter transparency that it utterly deflected and allayed any suspicions that the man may have had about Harry's sudden appearance and adoption.

“Not all analogies correlate directly, in every case,” he finally conceded, wondering if that was what Carlisle had wanted all along.

“In this case, however, it does apply – though you may not see it, yet. There are other cones, whose materials are substantially less dense to the point of being leathery rather than woody. Cones that dissolve rather than open – losing all substance of what they were before. Such was Alice, who remembers nothing from the life before she was turned, nor her sire. It is rather remarkable that her abilities to view possible futures permitted her to find Jasper and later our family before she became the focus of a tragedy.” Carlisle did not explain, but Severus did not truly need him to.

The ramifications of his descriptions were quite clear in Severus's mind. The thought of newborn vampire, driven by seeming unquenchable blood lust, without the memory of its humanity, without any concept of right and wrong... was enough to make Severus shudder, and that it had been Alice, who had seemed the most naturally capable of connecting both to Harry and himself. If Carlisle was correct, it was remarkable; no, frankly it was astounding.

Considering the analogy more deeply, now, Severus tried to fit what he knew of his... siblings into it, and curiosity driving him, shortly asked, “Emmett? Is he the... the same?”

“Emmett? No,” Carlisle's smile was slightly amused, if Severus was reading him correctly, but his answer was straight forward and not even the slightest sense condescending, 'No, Emmett is closer to a pine cone, swift to develop and quick to open. He accepted the turning as naturally and as jovially as if it had been his natural birth, and I truly do not think that he has ever felt a moment's regret or desire that which was given up.'

“How...” a question leapt to Severus's tongue, but he quickly discarded it, thankful that he could not blush with embarrassment at his sudden loose tongue.

“How can he cope with his mate's opposite attitude?” Carlisle suggested with a knowing smile. “If it were her constant disposition, I doubt that even Emmett's good nature could keep them together, and make no mistake, it is Emmett who does the work of keeping them together, despite his seeming carefree manner. When Rosalie is not being reminded of what she had dreamed for before her rebirth, she is generally content with her new life, and is deeply committed to our family.”

“She more closely fits the first model of a cone, then; although, perhaps with a longer development and harsher conditions?” Severus tested, finding himself curiously drawn into the analogy the longer they spoke.

“Yes, I would say so.” Carlisle confirmed, and walked silently beside him, clearly waiting for Severus to gather his thoughts.

“Jasper seems more reserved than Alice and Emmett, but not as …. difficult as Rosalie.” Severus offered, caught up in his curiosity.

“Yes. Jasper came to our family decades after he was turned, so I can not estimate how swiftly he might have developed, but he was reborn during the American Civil War and pulled into a Southern American Vampire Wars by his sire. Jasper was tempered during those harsh events, and is very much a product of them. Considering his gifts, the ability to read and augment emotions, it was perhaps an even crueler trial than Rosalie's; although, I think his childhood better prepared him to cope with his situation. Sadly, during that era, little was recognized of the strength of her gender, and even less expected. I have thought many times that Rosalie may have been born before her time, and her turning has given her opportunities she might not otherwise have.”

Severus canted his head, wondering if the same was true of Esme, or would have been true of Alice, had she retained her memory, but he felt hesitant to ask. Although Carlisle was being more than generous with information about their family, Severus was more accustomed to the habits of the headmaster and the dark lord, both of whom were inclined to jealously guard what information they held and only parcel out what little served their purposes for him to know.

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Carlisle watched his son, at the edge of his gaze, directing his soft smile out at the landscape instead of focusing on Severus, whom he was beginning to believe was naturally shy, despite his ingrained aggressive manner. Quiet, solitude, and patience, then, would probably be his best tools, with Severus, as they had been with Jasper.

Pausing for several seconds, he simply gazed out over the forests, his eyes lighting briefly from tree to tree before stretching his gaze into the distance. When it was clear that Severus was not going to pursue the conversation further, he turned to study Severus’s profile for a second before smiling and gesturing back along the path they had walked.

“I hate to cut off such an interesting discussion; however, I suspect that Alice and Rosalie have had sufficient time to finish with Harry, and he is probably anxiously waiting our return.”

Severus snapped his chin sideways to stare at Carlisle with an almost dumbfounded expression. 

Carlisle let Severus deliberate over whatever portion of his comment or the discussion had startled him until he reached the edge of the woods. Just before they would step out, he paused, noticing how quickly Severus also stopped in his tracks. 

"Did you have a question, Severus?"

"A question, no; rather a misplaced expectation."

"Oh?" Carlisle's tone carried most of the question and prompt for him. 

Severus shifted uneasily for several seconds before nodding and offering a cursory, "I had anticipated a cautionary statement regarding my role and behavior in your coven."

"I prefer to think of us as a family, actually; and I doubt that such a caution is needed. Take your cue from your brothers and sisters."

"I do not have their seniority..." Severus answered clearly reticent, but it was enough to explain at least some of his newest son's guarded behavior. 

"Nor any need to concern yourself with it." Carlisle tried to reassure him. "We are a family, Severus, not a hierarchical coven as you may have been raised to believe; although some lingering traits may exist, such as my desire to be obeyed, but is that any different than a human father's expectation to be obeyed?"

Before Severus could respond, Carlisle left him to consider the matter, certain that he would return to the house soon enough.


	8. A Little Help Along the Way

Barely suppressing the urge to throw his pen, Harry sighed and dropped his forehead across his arms, repeatedly, beating his forehead in frustration.

He was never going to understand algebra. 

Never! 

It didn’t matter how much he read and re-read the textbooks that Alice had dug out from the family’s storage of school items that they’d collected over a life time of moving from one school to the next... 

How many times Sev explained the steps of a problem to him... or 

How many times he watched the online homework solver work through a practice problem... 

The subject was just beyond him. 

Even worse, it wasn’t like Sev wasn’t trying to teach Harry, either. He was explaining every step, step by step, and he’d never done that in Potions, so Harry knew what it looked like when he wasn’t trying. Yet, even when the Potions Master wasn’t trying, Harry had learned something in potions - not so in algebra. 

Severus had even admitted that he seemed hopeless at it, and left the table in frustration, which felt a lot more like disgust to Harry, despite Sev’s attempt to suppress it. 

That hurt almost more than any of the insults that had been hurled at him during the first three years at Hogwarts because he was really trying, and in all honesty, he hadn’t been back then. 

Why try your best when you know that nothing you do will be given a fair review? Now, though, when Sev seemed to be trying his best to teach him, it looked like he was proving the professor’s earlier estimation of him - as a mindless dunderhead- to be correct. 

Sev had said it was nonsense when Harry had first said that maybe the Dursley’s were right: maybe he was a idiot; he hadn’t done well in school even before school after all. Sev had immediately fussed at him for even considering the possibilities that the Dursleys were right “about anything” and went on to say that it was simply that his own unfamiliarity with the material was undermining the efficacy of his explanations. 

That explanation had fallen through, though, when Edward, Jasper, and even Bella had tried, and failed to get the subject through his thick skull. They’d been nice about it, but Harry couldn’t help feeling bad about his in ability grasp the subject- almost as bad as he felt that his abysmal scores on the high-school's intake tests had come back in the low grade-school levels. 

When Carlisle, Severus, and Esme had spoken to him about the need to take the tests, but to purposefully not do exceptionally well on them - in order to insure that Harry could be ‘home-schooled’ at least for a couple of months, until they could be certain that his seeming immunity to newborn’s powerful blood thirsts would continue - Harry had understood, even if a little he felt a little uncomfortable at their desire for him not to do as well as his other ‘siblings’, which reminded him somewhat of the Dursley’s irritation with him whenever he’d shown more intelligence or initiative than Dudley. 

They needn’t have worried, though. As soon as he opened the first page of the test book, he’d realized that he wouldn’t have to try to dumb down his answers - at all. He’d been almost completely lost on the first question, and it had gone down hill from there. 

Several days later, he’d over heard Bella telling Edward that his scores had been so bad, they had even made it to the town’s rumor mill, and that the Cullen’s were being pitied for having taken in a ‘retard’. The Cullens didn’t seem to look down on him too much for it, though, except maybe Rosalie, but if she did, at least she’d never said anything about it or treat him differently because of it. 

Bella was another subject, though. At first, it had seemed like she was pleased to meet him. He’d thought she was, at least, but it wasn’t too very long before she started griping about him for hanging around in Edward’s room when she was over, not seeming to realize that he was sharing Edward’s room even though Harry was certain that Edward had mentioned the fact. Despite his mention, Bella had persisted in pushing Harry to relocate even when he had his textbooks out studying.....hinting to Harry that they’d like their ‘privacy, thank you,’ until Rosalie had snapped at her to “take him home and up to [her] room” if she was that “desperate”. That had caused a minor cold war between Rosalie, Harry, Bella and Edward that lasted close to a week until Bella over heard Alice or maybe Jasper talking about the trouble Harry was having with algebra, and volunteered to tutor him. 

Edward had looked so pleased at the idea that Harry reluctantly agree, hoping to end tension that had been making it uncomfortable to even walk in their room when Edward was home, but it quickly became apparent - at least to Harry- that Bella only offered the tutoring as a peace offering and seemed to agree with the town gossip - having no expectation or belief that he was capable of understanding the topic. 

From the start, she treated Harry almost like an infant - nearly cooing when he did even the smallest thing right (really, he could have sharpened a pencil and she would have probably clapped for him) - and telling him what to do next without ever explaining why. When he couldn’t do the next problem on his own because he didn’t understand one bit more from her simplistic instructions, she’d pat him on the shoulder like a toddler, murmur “That’s alright. Don’t get upset,” and take the pencil from his hand to work the problem for him. 

He’d hated every moment of it, but had still politely thanked her when it was finished, and asked Emmett to take him hunting three seconds later, when she hinted again that she’d like to go up to Edward’s room with him. 

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“I don’t think that’s going to do you any good,” Rosalie interrupted Harry’s moping, “at least, not on something as soft as your arm, if you knock your head on the table, it might help, but then we’re taking the risk of breaking the table, so let’s avoid that. Okay?” 

“Ha - Ha.” Harry answered, dryly, but sat back up and glared back down at the problem.   


> _Using the variable x to represent an unknown quantity of a forty percent solution of hydrogen peroxide and water and using the variable y to represent an unknown quantity of seventy percent hydrogen peroxide and water solution - using the elimination method, calculate- in milliliters- the quantity of each solution required to make:_
> 
> a) _twelve milliliters of a fifty percent solution_
> 
> b) _nine milliliters of a sixty five percent solution_
> 
> c) _twenty milliliters of a forty three percent solution_
> 
> _Test all answers using the substitution method._  
>    
> 

“This is supposed to be math, not potions,” he complained as he read it again. 

“Hmmm?” Rosalie asked as she leaned over his shoulder, sucking one of the blood pops that Harry had mail-ordered with Hermione’s help. Reminded of his friend, Harry shook his head, wishing she were there as his air of melancholy deepened. 

Even though she ‘d often huffed about it, when she knew that Harry and Ron were honestly trying, Hermione never hesitated to help them with their work, and often could explain it in a way that would make sense to Harry without ever making him feel stupid. Here, with the Cullens, Harry felt nothing but stupid and practically hated having to go upstairs to change or study when the others wanted to use the kitchen because it meant he had to pass their wall of high school and college diplomas... a wall he was beginning to suspect that he’d never contribute to. 

“It’s nothing,” he sighed, hoping to forestall her. 

“Oh, mixture problems,” she skimmed over the worksheet with a look of disgust, and he steeled himself for a snide comment. “ I used to simply Hate those.” 

“You did?!?” his head snapped up, and he stared at her in shock, finding it difficult to believe that she’d ever had difficulty with it, much less admit it. He’d counted one afternoon, and just on the wall display, she had several diplomas and six different degrees. Edward had commented that there had been quite a few more actually, but that Esme only kept out the more recent to avoid damaging the documents. 

“Oh yes,” She nodded, pulling out a chair and sitting by him as she read through the problem. “I absolutely hated them until Esme did the watercolor thing.” 

“What watercolor thing?” Harry asked feeling like he was groping for straws because watercolors sounded even less math related than hydrogen peroxide did, but still... 

“Oh, I wasn’t thinking. Esme's been so busy helping Sev get house and background set up that she really hasn’t had much time to help you with your studies, has she?” 

“No,” Harry agreed feeling a bit sheepish and guilty. He’d known that Severus was getting a house of his own, but hadn’t reailized that Esme was helping him and had just assumed that she wasn’t exactly pleased to have him around. It seemed like too much to hope for that all of the Cullens would be happy about the ‘adoption’ so he hadn’t. 

“Well here, go get a couple of glasses from the cupboard, and a pitcher of water; I’ll get some of her paints. What are your favorite colors?” 

“Er … Blue and gold, why?” 

“If we’re going to play around with paints, it only makes sense to choose colors we like.” 

“Oh... Wait... What do you mean play around with paint? Won’t that … ? She won’t want us making a mess, I’m sure.” 

“If we clean it up, I’m sure she won’t have a problem with it.” Rosalie answered mildly, studying him and waiting for his next comment. 

“You really think it might help?” 

“Can’t say, but it helped me. Anyway, there’s nothing to worry about; it’s just water color. It’ll wash right off.” 

“Okay,” Harry finally decided. Emmett and Alice often played tricks on each other and sometimes on her, and Rosalie liked to bicker with Sev and Edward, but so far he hadn’t seen her try to play tricks on him or anyone else. 

“Good, get nine water glasses, but don’t fill them up, yet.” She called out over her shoulder. 

Nine? Harry groaned to himself. Even if Esme didn’t get mad about the paints, surely she wouldn’t like them dirtying nine glasses for no reason. 

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Severus leaned in the doorway ruefully watching Rosalie explain the algebraic process of deriving the solutions to mixture equations, as she poured variously colored glasses of water into empty glasses in combinations to illustrate the underlying principles of interpreting the initial word problems into equations. Judging by the growing smile on Harry’s face, her technique was successful, as was soon demonstrated when Harry set aside several glasses of his own to demonstrate the next exercise - reading the application problem word for word as he simulated the solutions then wrote down the needed equation, a task which had continuously plagued Harry every time he attempted to work a problem up to that point. 

He should have realized that Harry was a kinesthetic learner. Outside of the potions classroom, his greatest skills were in the practicum of duelling and flight, both requiring far above average physical awareness and rapid fire spatial assessment. It was only in the potions classroom that Harry’s practical skills had fallen short, but Severus had no doubt where the true guilt for that weakness lay. 

Severus had initially assumed that it was his gruff instruction that was failing Harry, where it was clear that the child was trying his hardest to grasp the material and consistently failing, but that theory had been quickly dis-proven when both Jasper and Edward’s attempts were met with equal results. He’d had no doubt that Harry was capable of understanding - so his new sibling’s continued struggle and increasing demoralization had doubly frustrated him, especially when he realized that he was having a far easier and more enjoyable time integrating into the family than Harry was experiencing. 

Despite his argumentative start, the entire Cullen family had immediately closed circles around Severus as tightly as they had around Harry from the start: introducing him as Carlisle’s adopted brother to the sheriff and Carlisle’s coworkers as soon as he demonstrated that he had the ability, thanks to occlumency and sensory suppression spells, to ignore humans’ blood scent’s for an extended time; helping him to hone his hunting skills to the point that he could capture, feed from, and release a Kodiak bear without risk of injury; and showing him how to fine tune and document his false background with small details and mementos that he would have normally never considered. In the process, Severus had discovered a true appreciation for their individual natures and perspectives - finding his own route to communicating with each - largely guided by the information that Carlisle had given him during their first walk. 

Harry, by contrast, having his background established by their first ruse, and having no immediately pressing goals - outside of behaving- while the others carried on with their own had been allowed to fall by the wayside, and become more isolated as his lack of experience relegated him to an observer in both establishing their false identities, and their family life. It hadn’t helped that the child’s ego had taken such a blow when is assessment test returned. 

Given what he had come to realize about Harry’s early childhood and knew of Harry’s training at Hogwarts, Severus had truly expected as much, but had found it difficult - at first - to offer the child any comfort. Ironically, it had been Rosalie to take him aside and told him to lighten up (by means of suggesting he get his head out of his... well arse (though her words had been a bit more explicit) and stop being a prick to Harry). By that point, though, the damage had already been done, and Harry had seemed to come to the belief that he was disappointing Severus with his continued struggle to grasp the material. 

Turning in toward the hand that grasped his shoulder from behind, Severus nodded a greeting Emmett. 

“She’s … good... with Harry.” Severus offered, unaccountably feeling the need to say something. Of any of the Cullens, Emmett seemed the least demanding, but he had come up on Severus been watching his mate. 

“Yep, She has a talent for cutting through... well for getting to the heart of things.” Emmett answered with a rueful smile that Severus could well understand and agree with; Rosalie’s preferred method to get ‘to the heart of things’ seemed to be wielding sharp cutting remarks with remarkable accuracy, sometimes viciously, and during recent weeks only Esme and Harry had been spared as targets - Esme by wearing an expression of wary hurt that Rosalie couldn’t seem to cope with, and Harry by sheer avoidance. 

“Give him time, Sev.” Emmett advised quietly, “Learning about magic was probably less difficult than this will be; he didn’t have as much to unlearn.” 

Turning to study the perceptive young vampire with a glimmer of surprise, Severus offered what he could of a smile. it was a habit he’d trained himself out of, but was working to regain, for Harry’s sake. 

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Trying to ignore Emmett and Sev’s conversation, Harry worked through the last questions on that page, until Rosalie pulled a glass out of reach, just as he was about to pour the light blue solution into it. 

“Why did you do that,” he asked in a soft hiss, hoping she wasn’t going to start pranking him the way she did Emmett. 

“You’ve already done that one …. twice.” She laughed, pointing to the scrap paper where he had, indeed, written and worked through the problem previously. 

“Oh,” he grimaced sheepishly, and looked to the next problem on the page. 

“Don’t bother.” Rosalie interrupted his thoughts before he could start. “You’ve got the idea, now, I think, and besides, you’re head hasn’t been in it since you noticed tall, dark, and grumpy in the door.” 

“Rosalie!” He hissed, glancing quickly at Sev to be sure the professor hadn’t heard, but neither he nor Emmett seemed to be listening, so Harry spared her a glare, but started to gather the glasses up to rinse and dry them. 

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“Alice thinks we’ll have a thunderstorm soon.” 

“Does she?” Severus inquired, raising his eyebrow at the non-sequitor. 

“Yep, so I was thinking; after Rosalie and Harry finish up, why don’t we go down to that glen you’ve sound proofed, and I can explain the rules of Baseball.” 

Shaking his head at the mix of non-linear comments, Severus answered, “I warded it, not just sound-proofed it.” 

“Yeah, but it’s the sound proofing that counts.” 

“I see.” 

“I doubt it.” Rosalie smirked coming to stand beside them, smirking as Harry trailed in her wake looking a bit apprehensive. 


End file.
